


Frontier (SEASON 1)

by Little_Duckling1995



Series: Frontier Series [1]
Category: Frontier (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2018-12-22 01:29:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11956851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Duckling1995/pseuds/Little_Duckling1995
Summary: Follow Claire Emberly, a secrets trader, after 7 years away, return to Fort James to warn her sister and former lover about the impending storm about to hit their little town.I know, my description is less than subpar but I promise to deliver an imaginative story that will keep you entertained.





	1. A Kingdom Unto Itself PART 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you opened this, that means you got over my little summary and are willing to give this a try! Thank you. Now a few notes before you get started...  
> 1\. I will be doing each chapter in accordance to each episode. So for example, episode one 'A Kingdom Unto Itself' consists of 1 chapter in 2 parts. So there will be six 'episodes' with however many chapter parts. I will always post a whole chapter at a time however many parts that will be.  
> 2\. Since I am writing the story this way, I will be doing the story in 'seasons' as well. So from chapter 1 to chapter 6 will be one season and since season 2 isn't out yet, we will have to wait. But I have heard that Frontier is renewed for a second season!  
> 3\. For everyone reading my Captain Boomerang fic, I am working on it, just watched this show and I HAD to write about it.

Claire took her first few steps off the civilian ship and onto the ground known as Fort James.  She took a deep inhale, the smell taking her back to the last time she walked this part of the earth.  The slight breeze tousled her raven waves and her deep brown eyes squinted against the early afternoon sun.  She took a brisk walk through the marketplace, some new and some old stalls peppered the passage to her destination.  Bringing her furs closer around her body, Claire realized she was in desperate need of bathing.  After weeks on a voyage to the New World from England, she smelled of sea water, stale bread, and close confined quarters. 

The woman set her sights on the ale house: a place to find a decent meal and even better liquor.  Taking a deep breath, she quickened her pace and walked through the doors of the wooden building.  Many patrons littered the space, mostly men, however, most of them hovered near the crackling fire to her right.  She didn’t blame them, it was becoming quite cold outside.  Soon the slight breeze would become a bitter winter. 

She took in the jolly atmosphere.  Everyone was either drinking, laughing, or discussing how to chop wood to stay, at best, warm during the wintery months. 

Claire stepped up to the counter.  “Whiskey please.”  Her voice sounded of thick maple syrup, cultured and sweet.  She talked familiarly and straightforward.  A blonde woman smiled and began Claire’s request.  “Has it been cold for long?”  The blonde didn’t look at the woman, engrossed in finding a clean mug and the drink the woman asked for.  “No.  Not long my lady.  But this winter will certainly be terrible.”  The timid woman handed Claire her drink and smiled, clasping her hands in front of her burgundy dress.  “Is there anything else I could get you?”

“Actually, could you please tell me where Ms. Emberly’s whereabouts are?  We have some business.”

The gleaming smile the blonde had quickly faded and unsure.  She squared her shoulders.  “Ms. Emberly has not expressed she was expecting anyone-…”

“I realize, but she would be devastated if she was not informed about my presence immediately.”  The blonde gulped and nodded, hastily striding to the back. 

Claire took a sip of her whiskey, deep and rich, it was absolutely delightful.  She sat in her stool, taking in her surroundings when she heard footsteps approach her but stopped abruptly.  “Claire!”  Grace stood starstruck, trying to process who was in front of her.  A moment later, Grace regained her bearings and ran to her sister, embracing her in a tight hug.  But as soon as the affection came, it was quickly replaced with anger.  “It’s been a year!  Ya hand broken where you couldn’t write your own sister to let her know you’re okay?”

“I know Grace, I’m sorry, I don’t have an excuse this time.”  Claire shrugged her shoulders while Grace walked behind the counter, pretending to make herself busy.  “That’s the first.”  She looked at her sister, clicking her tongue and grasping tightly onto her sister’s hands.  “Ya left without a word seven years ago and you used to write all the time up until the last year.  I got worried!  Don’t pull that shite again Claire.”  She nodded.  “I know ya needed time to grieve but…  Did you just get back from England?”  Claire nodded again in understanding and affirmation.  “Yes.  I was there for two years.  Gaining more personnel.”

“Right, right.  How is that going?  How was England.  Did ya go home for a bit?”  Grace released her sister’s hands and grabbed a rag wiping down the counters.  “Yes.  I did.  Scotland isn’t the same without you… and England is England.  Streets filled with rats, sickly people.  Business is good though.  Found five who are willing to be confidants.  One is very promising.  Stationed in England.  Altogether I found about seventeen people in different countries.  I have one traveling to India now.”

“Sounds like you’ve been working hard, dear sister.”  Grace stopped, lowering her voice and looking directly at her sister.  “Any good news?”  Claire’s lip perked up in a small laugh.  “Good?  That’s up for debate.  King George is looking for a new mistress.  Rumor has it his wife, the queen, cannot conceive anymore.  So naturally she found herself a new lover too.  To think Grace, I could have been the King’s mistress and bathed in riches.  I went to one of his gala’s and he was very interested.”

“But you wouldn’t have.”  The smirk on Claire’s lip disappeared, replaced with a scowl.  “Couldn’t have.  Wouldn’t have, couldn’t, it’s all the same.”  Claire took a sip of her whiskey as Grace quickly changed the subject back to the English king, cleaning the same spot on the counter space again.  “Or ya could have ended up like King Henry’s brides with your head rolling on the ground.  I doubt the king would have liked it when he found out you are a trader of secrets.”  Claire laughed, setting her mug on the clean counter.  “A British frigate is on its way.”  Grace stopped, eyes wide.  “What, when?”

“It was supposed to be a fortnight, but a messenger has informed me that their arrival is due in a few days.”

“A few days?!”

“Yes.  Lord Benton is heard to have a revenge wish fulfilled.”  Grace paused, taking a glup, her eyes softening.  “That’s why you’re here.”  Claire took the last swig of her drink and stared down into the empty mug.  “I s’pose.”

“You still care.”

“Grace.  I am only leaving you with the message and I’ll be off in few days’ time.”

“Claire please.  Don’t go, stay.”  Grace sighed.  “I miss you and I know you are doing fathers work, but take some time.  Please.”  She paused thinking of words to say to convince her sister to stay.  “I haven’t even seen him in months, Claire.  I don’t even know if he will ever be back for me to give the message.”  Claire rubbed her face with her hands, taking a deep inhale.  Scratching her chin, she responded.  “Ok, I’ll… think about it Grace.”  Her sister smiled bright, there was a chance.  “Good!  Now let’s get you cleaned up.  Ya smell like shite.”


	2. A Kingdom Unto Itself PART 2

“Any moment now they should be here Grace.”  Claire’s sister nodded in affirmation, staring blankly at the front door of the ale house.  “Aye, I’m aware.”  Every time the door swung open, both sisters lifted their gazes from their tasks to see who walked in the door, most times it was a thirsty patron looking for some good ale.  Both women sighed in relief when a priest dressed in a black cape sauntered into the house and straight to the bar.  Claire took her spot in a corner of the house watching the conversation. 

“Long journey?”  Grace asked.  “Must be thirsty father?”

“Dry to my bones Ms. Emberly.”  He glanced behind him.  “It seems that Governor Threadwell is your guest for tonight.”  Grace piqued her eyebrow, clicking her tongue.  “Every night.”  The priest nodded in agreement and reached for the bottle of liquor next to Grace.  Before his fingertips could grasp the bottle, Grace snatched it and placed it in front of her.  To explain himself, Father James continued.  “I’m afraid my profession, though spiritually rewarding, leaves me with an empty purse.”  Grace smiled.  “Well you’re in luck.  There is another currency I can accept.  As you well know.” 

Father James looked over his shoulder, to the left and to the right and back again, lowering his voice.  “There is news from the North Labrador Sea. A ship, on its way here, rounded the head of Hudson’s Bay a fortnight ago.”  Grace looked curiously at the Father, opening the bottle, she began to pour him a drink.  “Who’s on board?”

“A senior HBC company man.  Very important.”  Grace suddenly looked uninterested, but didn’t deny the man a drink.  “I already knew that Father James.”  She pursed her lips.  He looked around, grasping at straws.  “I can find other things out tomorrow, I promise.”  He took a sip of his drink, savoring the taste, his eyes shifting back and forth.  “Do you know who is on the ship, Ms. Emberly?”

“I certainly do.  I-…”  A sudden shouting abruptly stopped the conversation nearby the ale house.  “It seems they have arrived.”  Claire spoke out.  Father James gulped the last of his liquor and rushed out of the establishment to get a glimpse of the commotion outside. 

Claire stood up and walked to her sister’s side, her boots clomping on the floor boards.  “I get a feelin’ Grace, much blood will be shed in the months to come.”  Both sisters stood watching the door.  “Me too.”  With a sigh and a clap of her hands, Claire faced her sister.  “Well.  I think I fancy a nap.  I haven’t taken one of those in quite some time.”  She turned to head into the back of the ale house.  “I’ll see ya soon.”

Sounds of joyful dancing and an upbeat fiddle woke Claire from her deep slumber.  She blinked her eyes, trying to adjust them to the dimmed light of the lanterns.  Stretching her limbs, she wiggled her toes and fingers, sitting in an upright position.  Pushing her hair behind her ears she stood up and headed to the front of the bar and for the first time in months, enjoy merrymaking. 

Claire smiled at the towns folk enjoying themselves.  She was all business, she hasn’t seen such joyfulness in quite some time and it was a fresh drink of water.  She watched Grace push a man out of her bar, chastising him for his erratic behavior.  Claire shook her head and laughed, pouring herself a drink.  She left her furs in the back of the house and a sudden chill slowly crept up her spine.  Taking a sip of her liquor, she headed to sit near the crackling, orange fire. 

Leaning against the fireplace, she turned an ear to all the playful banter of the room, but one conversation in particular stood out.  A male’s, low voice spoke to the priest who was in the ale house earlier.  “…until you take me to Declan Harp.”  Claire took a steep intake of breath, but kept her cool demeanor, leaning against the fireplace, staring into its dancing flames.  She listened to the men talk about less than tasteful things, but none interested her more than the statement the boy had previously said.  She kept listening, hoping to listen in to more the conversation between the two unaware men.  Occasionally, she took a sip of her drink, feeling the warm liquor drizzle down her throat and settle in her belly.

Grace noticed her sisters hidden agenda and nonchalantly turned to Mary, her barmaid.  Inquisitive, Mary turned to her employer, ready to listen.  “The Priest and the boy.  I want to know what their saying.”  Mary preformed a small curtsey and put on her best innocent, playful face while Grace walked to the back, waiting for her request to be fulfilled.  Claire took notice to this and grunted disapprovingly.  Her sister must know that she would have told her what the duo had said.  The priest’s voice pulled her back to the conversation. 

“Most think the sickness is about money.  It’s really about power, Michael.  Some want more power and some don’t want to give up the power they have.  When someone gains more, someone else has to lose it.  You have to be careful here or you will get pulled in by the sickness too.”  Claire looked down into her rapidly emptying cup while listening to the short monologue, relating to the priest’s words.  It wasn’t just a blood bath, it was a game of power and how to gain more because with power, comes money and money brings more power.  Once you’re in, you’re in an endless, vicious cycle for your life.  She swished the last bits of her drink around. 

Claire was very good at what she did, but risked discovery every day.  She wished she could trust her informants, but some were paid for a closed mouth and flap when money was shoved in their dirty faces.  But in the end, she was in vicious cycle too… for power and money, grasping at more of each.  But that didn’t mean she didn’t have a conscious.  She kept her business clean and only got her hands dirty when necessary.  She was blessed that wasn’t often.

“And you have to know…” the priest continued, “going to the interior to meet Declan Harp, may cost you your life.”  Claire clenched her teeth, pushing herself away from the fireplace and meeting her sister in the back.  Claire was met with an empty back room, her sister nowhere in sight.  Sighing, she took a seat at the table, propped her feet up and began sharpening her knives.

An hour later, Grace walked in through the back door.  Claire was still sharpening her knives and began to work on her sister’s silverware.  Without looking up, Claire was the first to speak.  “How was your talk with Lord Benton.”  Sighing, Grace sat opposite of her sister, propping her head on her hand.  “Wonderful.”

“Haven’t betrayed your own flesh and blood ‘ave you?”  Laughing, Grace kicked her sister under the table.  “Aye, I have sharp knives, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”  The laughing becoming louder between the two.  “It seems my visit _gained_ us a new barmaid.”

“From Lord Benton’s service I presume?”

“Of course.  Imogen is her name.”

“Ya know she wouldn’t be our informant, she will be feeding our agenda to him.”

“I know, we have to be careful from now on.  Damn, I told him no but he insisted.  What were the priest and the boy talking about?  Before I forget.”  Claire breathed in and out, placing her knives on the table, looking square at her sister.  “Declan Harp.”

“What did they want with him?”  Leaning back in her chair, Claire crossed her arms over her chest.  “I don’t know.  But the boy is looking for him.  Likely hired by Benton to inform him about Declan’s whereabouts.”  Grace’s was deep in thought.  “The boy is going to get himself killed.”

“I have been told Declan’s behavior became erratic, untamed since his wife died.”

“Since you left, he only got worse after that.  Did your informants tell ya that?”

Claire stood up, straightening her back.  “We will make do with what we have.  For now, I think I’ll retire for the night.”  Nodding Grace smiled at her sister.  “Goodnight.  I’m glad you’re here.”

Without another word said, Claire walked into the back room.


	3. Little Brother War PART 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here is chapter 2, so in the show, it would only be episode 2. Keep that in mind.

Morning came with a foul mood for everyone.  Grace was not looking forward to employing Imogen and Claire was getting antsy and irritable from staying in the little town for too long.  Grace was very patient for the sake of keeping her sister in close company.

Claire was listening to her sister instructing her new barmaid on what to do and how very precisely she wanted it done when a red coat caught her attention.  “Ms. Emberly…”  Mary’s timid voice spoke out.  Grace looked from Mary to Captain Chesterfield.  He drug his feet to the bar, blood dried onto the side of his head and matting his hair.  “Whiskey, double.”  Grace shook her head and quickly walked to the Captain placing her hands on his shoulders and ushering him to the back. 

Claire watched the encounter as did the other two women, gawking.  “Well get back to work.”  Mary, once told who Claire was, obeyed Claire like Grace without questions.  Claire sat at a table near the back, propped her feet on the table top, and listened intently to the conversation between her sister and the Captain of Lord Benton. 

After about an hour had gone by, Grace pushed the curtain aside and walked back into the front, wiping her hands on her pants.  She stopped when she saw her sister sitting near where she just was.  “Listening were you?”  Claire hastily responded.  “The Captain, he is a good-looking man.  Too bad he is in bed with the enemy.  Or have you forgotten?  A proposal, Grace?  Are you mad?”  Pushing her sister’s feet off the table, she sat next to her, leaning forward.  “I have an idea on how to wedge between Benton and Chesterfield.  Keep him in check and close.  I thought you were all for taking risks, Claire.”

“Not when…” she breathed in, “not when it can kill the people closest to me.”  Grace placed her hand on her sister’s knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.  “It won’t.  Please trust me Claire.”  Claire leaned back in her chair, folding her arms, and licking her lips.  “Ok.  I’ll trust you.  Just… please be careful.  This has a high chance to go south.”  Grace nodded and stood up, taking her place behind the bar when Mary came charging in.  “Ms. Emberly.  There is something you need to see.”  Referring to both Grace and Claire.  Claire sighed, there is always something.  She stood up and followed Mary out of the back. 

Mary led them to the store house behind the bar, explaining what she was doing there at night.  “I was coming out to fetch a wheel of cheese and sausage and when I got here, the lock was broken.  You’re not gonna like what I found inside.”  In hurried steps, the three woman walked into the store house to find a drunken, Scottish man singing to himself and a sickly looking Native boy.  Grace was furious.  “Cedric Brown.  What have you done you done you drunken toe rag?” 

“Grace Emberly!  You’re a fucking goddess.”  Disregarding his comment, Grace walked to the boys side.  “I’m securing me and my brothers future.”

“What do you mean?”  Grace asked.  “They’re bankrupt.”  Claire spoke up on behalf of the drunk.  Grace sighed, clearly aggravated.  “Do your brothers know what you’ve done?”

“Nah.  But they’re gonna be fucking proud of me.”

“You fool.  If this boy dies your brothers are going to murder you!  Look at his dress do you realize who he is?!”  Claire looked out the dirty, fogged window to see Imogen staring into the small room.  Locking eyes with her, Imogen looked as if she was caught in bed with a man, quickly leaving the scene.  “The wounds infected.  Mary, deal with this.  Claire, stay with me.”  Once Mary took Cedric out of the store house Claire began to tap her foot, “I’ll look for some bandages and herbs.  A good ointment will help.” 

Claire looked at the boy sympathetically.  “Grace, that boy being here... you know he _will_ come to take the boy to secure that alliance with the Lake Walkers.”  Grace didn’t stop her ministrations.  “I know.”

“I am not a weak woman, Grace.  But I do have weaknesses.”  Grace didn’t say anything as Claire turned to find medicinal supplies to help the Native boy survive the night.  Upon her return, Claire helped her sister clean the boys wounds until all that was left to do was sit and pray for the best.  “I’m going to bed.  Come on, we can come back in the morning.”  Claire said to her sister.  Emotionally exhausted from the day’s events, the women walked back into the ale house for the night hoping for tomorrow to be better.

The next morning Grace was greeted with Claire sitting in the back of the ale house reading stacks of papers.  “Good reading?”  Without rising her eyes, Claire acknowledged her sister.  “Missives, from my informants.”

“Anything interesting?”  Grace sat across from Claire, handing her coffee.  “Nothing of note, or helpful for the now.” 

“Well I have something.  It seems the Brown brothers are looking to make an investment with a wealthy American, Samuel Brown.”  The name caught Claire’s attention.  Setting her papers down, she leaned forward.  “Samuel Brown?  I know of him.  He plays dirty, always gets what he wants no matter the cost of the means to procure the ends, _his_ ends.  The Brown’s would be better off fending for themselves.”

“I think it’s too late.”  Shaking her head, Claire grabbed the piece of paper again.  “Unfortunate for them.”  A sudden and loud bang in the front of the ale house caught both women’s attentions.  “Where is she!?”  Captain Chesterfield’s booming voice echoed in the space. 

Both Claire and Grace ran out from the back staring a seething man with his hands around Mary’s neck.  “Christ, are you out of your mind Chesterfield!?”  The man released Mary and angrily stomped to Grace, his face almost as red as his coat.  “Where is he?  The Native boy.”  Before she had time to respond, Chesterfield walked back from where they came and upon finding nothing, he threw open the back door and into the store house.

Claire glanced at Imogen, shaking her head and clicking her tongue.  “My sister is your employer, you’d do best to remember that.  Don’t get on our bad side.”  And out the back door she followed Chesterfield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos please!


	4. Little Brother War PART 2

The sounds of the lake were a calming addition to the nature surrounding the company, but the people were anything but peaceful.  Declan’s people loaded up canoes while he stood by them, talking to his own.  A boy, Michael, joined him a few days back.  Declan didn’t fully trust him, but he needed him as an informant possibly as leverage, but that was to be determined. 

The meeting with the Lake Walker tribe was less than fruitful, coming to find that the Kamenna’s grandson was taken by white men.  Another obstacle in Declan’s way.  He had decided what to do next, but a few were unhappy with his choice.  Michael was convinced it wasn’t Benton, but that remains to be seen.  Regardless if it was him or not, he would secure the boy to solidify a trading route with the Lake Walkers. 

“Well we’re going to be the ones that find Kitchi.”  He responded to Michael turning to Sokanan.  “It’s the only way to secure their trade.”  Walking to the canoe, his hand was resting on one of his knives.  “We’re going to Fort James.” 

Grace never drank while working, but her and Claire both knew that things were going to go right from the frying pan and into the fire.  Though the atmosphere was very lively and jovial, the two sisters were anything but.  Most days Claire felt like she knew too much to ever truly be that blissful again.  The secrets she knew kept happiness at bay. 

The sisters didn’t speak, just watched.  Mary was the first to break the ‘silence’ between them.  “Grace…”  Both women looked at Mary and up at the door finding Captain Chesterfield striding in.  Claire turned her body facing the barrels of liquor, leaning her backside on the counter.  She leaned in closer to her sister, crossing her arms and whispering in her ear.  “I do not approve of this, I don’t trust the blighter.  You shouldn’t either.  I’m going to go meet with an informant.  Stay out of trouble.”  With that, Claire walked out the back door and outside.

Without a much as a nod or a customary hello, Chesterfield jumped right in.  “I hope he wasn’t your friend.”

“Cedric?  A friend, no.  A customer, yes.  Interesting approach you have to problem solving.”

“Does it offend you?”

“Quite the opposite.  I respect a man whose actions are decisive.”

“The boy is alive, and he is being cared for.”

“Is that what you came here to tell me?  Or have you given our partnership some thought?”  Chesterfield turned his head, thinking of his response.  The sounds of talking, a fiddle and a crackling fire filled the silence while the Captain made his decision.  “What exactly do you have in mind?”  Grace smiled, leaning forward and telling him all about her ideas.

Once Chesterfield and Grace said their pieces, Grace nodded for Mary.  “Follow him, see where he goes.  I want to know where he’s taken the boy.”  Without a verbal confirmation, Mary nodded and quietly slipped out of the ale house.

An hour or so later after Mary returned, Grace began to worry about her sister.  She knew Claire was good at taking care of herself, but she still worried after her.  But only moments later, an ominous man walked through the door and straight to the bar.  Grace looked up, shocked but immediately finding her words.  “Christ Harp, it’s not safe for you here.”

Declan looked down, finding a bottle of liquor and pouring a glass for himself.  “I came to see you.”  Putting the bottle away and closing her inventory book, she took Declan to the back for some privacy. 

Once in the back, talking quickly began.  “Grace I need to talk to you.”

“Where have you been?  Look at you.”  Declan looked down at himself, he knew she wasn’t referring to his physical appearance.  Without meeting her eye, he continued.  “I need information.” 

“Are you serious?  I’ve not seen you in months.”  Declan shifted his feet.  “You give information to everyone else, now I need you to give me some.”  Shocked and slightly angered, Grace responded.  “Not for nothin’ I won’t.”  Declan turned to leave, “This was a mistake.”  Grace reached out for him.  “No wait.”  He stopped, glaring at her.  “Tell me why you’re here.”  She grasped his hand in a friendly gesture, but he immediately pulled away.  “Declan.”

“There is a Lake Walker boy named Kitchi.  He was taken captive.  Do you know anything about it?”

“He was here a few nights ago.  Well, his wounds were festerin’.  I kept him hidden here, took care of him until his fever broke.”

“And who brought him in?”

“Cedric Brown.  He stole the boy.”

“Not Benton?”

“No.  Cedric first.  Then Benton’s man Chesterfield came along and took him.”

“And where are they holding him now?  Where is the boy?”

“Declan, you can’t keep chasing Benton.”  Declan pushed, “Where is the boy, Grace?”

“Look, I know you’ve been through hell, but going after Benton is never going to bring your wife back.”  He took a step forward, intensely pronouncing his words.  “Where is the boy?”  Shaking her head, she didn’t answer.  Declan began to walk off again.  “Governor’s house.”  He hesitated for a millisecond then continued walking to the back door.  “One last piece of information, Declan.”  He stopped, waiting for Grace to speak.  “She told me not to tell you, but I feel I’d be doing you and her a disservice if I didn’t.  Claire is here, in Fort James.”

Declan took a deep inhale through his nose, clenching his jaw and bowing his head.  “Where is she?”  Neither of them turned to face each other.  “She is with an informant right now.  She should be back shortly.  Declan, she may leave any day and this time, I don’t know if she will return.”  When Declan assumed she was finished, he took his first step out the door, not looking back.

Declan felt as if he was hit by a freight train.  Claire.  Claire Emberly was here.  He could hardly believe it.  It had been seven years since he saw her face and it caused him a great pain in his chest knowing he was the reason she left and he couldn’t blame her. 

The night seemed endless in their pursuit for the Native boy when he was searching with a broken heart.  Once the boy was secure and safe with his tribe he didn’t even suggest a negotiation, they had just received their tribesman and he had business to attend to.  He headed out back to the forest but was met with Sokanon’s questioning voice.  “Where are you going?”  He didn’t stop, his feet taking large strides to his destination.  “I have someone to meet with.”


	5. Mushkegowuk Esquewu PART 1

The sun had only been up for a few hours, barely warming the earth.  The first snow had fallen last night as she was meeting with her contact, and old friend.  Luckily, she dressed for the occasion. 

It had been a long and tedious night, he filled her in about all the latest happenings in the New World from important leverage to juicy gossip about pompous nobles.  Claire had rolled her eyes at their self-righteous claims and it almost gave her a headache.  He also informed her that he had a buyer who wanted information of the whereabouts of a woman but he didn’t give her enough details for her to release that information.  The buyer offered 5 silver, the information was worth at least 15.  The girl was well hidden and though she knew where she was, she lost contact with one of her informants while retrieving the girl’s location. 

Claire’s boots crunched the fresh snow, the only sound she listened to from the rendezvous point to the outskirts of the small town of Fort James, leaving small, feminine footprints behind her.  She adjusted her furs across her body, trying to trap in the little warmth she gave off when finally, the ale house came into view.  A relieved sigh left Claire’s lips, defrosting the air around her mouth.  Her pace quickened with renewed energy.

“I’m going to start a nice fire.  I need a rest.”  Claire spoke to herself.  Claire practically threw open the door and slammed it shut once she was in the house.  She didn’t remove her furs.  Stomping the snow off of her boots she walked to the back room adjacent to the ale house and was met with a large, shadowed figure crouching in front of a roaring fire.  They both stood there in silence, not facing each other.  Claire knew who her eyes were looking at, but she was not going to be the first to speak.  “You’re back.  Took you awhile.”  The figure didn’t move to face her.  Instead, he poked at the fire, moving the coals to heat the room more efficiently.  Claire crossed her arms, “I was busy.  Why are you here?”  The figure stood, barely looking over his shoulder.  “I was given information that you were here.”

A heated inhale warmed Claire’s bones.  “I deal with information trading.  My guess is you were given this information by my sister.  Right, Declan?”  He finally faced her after many years.  She was met with his brown and steely blue eyes and she released the breath her chest clung to.  She looked away from him, closing her own eyes.  He could easily break her 7 year resolve with a tender kiss and she was bound and determined to not let him get the best of her.  Clenching her fists in her furs, she continued.  “You should go.”

“I’m not leaving.”  Declan didn’t move closer to her, but he would not move away.  “Isn’t it not safe for you to be here?”  Her eyes met his in a fiery rage and he smiled the biggest smile in many a year.  “You care for my safety, Claire?”  He was doing it.  Weakening her resolve.  “Of course, I always cared, Declan.”

“Even after you left?”  She stopped, her jaw clenching tightly.  Shaking her head, Claire finally released her anger she was holding in.  “I’m not going to talk about this with you right now, Declan.  I-…”  Declan took a step forward to her, but not reaching out, testing his limits with her.  She reciprocated and took a step back.  “I missed you.”  He finally admitted not just to her, but to himself.  Without releasing her gaze from his, her firm voice ripped through him.  “You had someone else to warm your bed.  I don’t want to hear your lies about how much you missed me.  Now you need to leave.  Benton is looking for you with a passionate rage.” 

Declan turned back to the fire, resting his forearm on the mantle while his other rested on his hip, becoming entranced by the dancing flames.  “I’d give up this endeavor if you’d just come with me.  Forever.”  Claire took in a sharp breath, filling the whole capacity of her lungs and held it there.  Warm, salty tears began to crawl down her cold cheeks, the contrast painful.  Her brows furrowed and she bit her bottom lip.  Suddenly becoming interested in her boots, she responded, “Declan, I don’t trust you.”

A metaphorical knife jabbed at Declan’s heart.  He has lost her and he was terrified it would be forever.  He was a tender man before all the heartache and he vowed to not cry at this moment, but his anguish was evident across his face.  Her crumbling voice settled like molasses in his ears.  “I heard how corrupt you became after your… wife’s… death.  You were not the man I believed you to be, before and after I left.” 

The hand that rested on the mantel piece held his face, urging him not to burst into tears at her words.  Rubbing at his eyes, keeping the sorrow he felt away, he tried to search for the perfect words to say to her.  An awkward silence thickly filled the room when it was shattered by a slamming door.  In rushed a Native man, straight for Declan.  “Declan.  The boy, Michael, has been taken.”  Declan glimpsed up at Dimanche then at Claire.  She stood there, stark still, unsure of herself.  He hated to see her that way.  She was strong, able-bodied, not feeble. 

Turning back to Dimanche, Declan nodded and pushed himself away from the fire.  Dimanche was the first out the door, waiting for Declan.  The sound of slow, heavy footfalls filled the room around Claire.  She didn’t move, she wasn’t sure where to go.  Declan stopped at her side, raising a hand to place on her cheek, but she swung her head away from him.  Instead, he placed a hand on her furs, gripping her shoulder tight and without a word, followed his companion out into the snow.

No one could hear her, but she always repeated the words when Declan left on one of his adventures.  “Be safe.”

 


	6. Mushkegowuk Esquewu PART 2

Declan stared down at one of the men responsible for killing a few of the Lake Walkers… and the reason his time with Claire was cut short.  Claire.  She only grew more beautiful with age.  At first, he couldn’t believe it was her.  He almost forgot that Claire and Grace looked totally different.  While Grace had straight red hair like her mother, Claire was blessed with curly hair like her father and black hair like her Native mother. Alluring, marvelous.

“Declan.”  Sokanon broke him from his daze.  He rose his gaze to her, then to Michael.  The boy has proven his worth and quickly was becoming an asset.  Taking a few breaths, the snow crunched under his feet as he shifted back and forth.  “The HBC is our common enemy.  They have unlimited resources and if we’re gonna take them and Benton down, we’re gonna need all the independent companies to work together.”  He moved his head between Sokanon and Michael.  “We have to stop this war between the Browns and the Lake Walkers before it happens.  “Let’s go.  Up!”  He commanded the kneeling white man. 

The five of them walked in silence, frozen to the core from the snow.  Michael walked next to Declan.  Every day, Michael was charmed more and more by Declan and saw him as a mentor.  Sokanon stood behind their white prisoner, but picked up her step to talk to Declan about his private visit.  Her step matched his as she adjusted her furs.  “How was the meeting with her?”  For a few moments, Declan just stared into the snowy hills and continued his fast pace.  “Fine.”  Sokanon snickered, clearly disgusted.  “Sokanon, don’t.”

“I’m sorry, Declan but-…”  Declan stopped and focused his eyes on the Native woman.  “She was first.  I loved your sister, but Claire was always first.”  With those words, he continued his journey to meet with Malcom Brown. 

Sokanon stood for a moment dazed, but clearly irritated.  Clenching her jaw, she fell in step with Dimanche and the prisoner.  Michael continued his pace with Declan, glancing between him and at the snow.  “Who was she talking about, Declan?”  He walked in silence, staring straight ahead.  “Sorr-…”

“She was before my wife.”  Declan’s rough voice cut off Michael’s.  “I loved her, very much and I made a mistake.”  Michael didn’t ask.  He just walked side by side, but anxiously waiting for Declan to continue.  “I met Claire ten years ago.  She lived with her mother’s tribe.  She lived in Scotland most of her life, but when her father died, she came back to the New World.  We were together for 2 years and she became pregnant.”  Declan’s words became a slight decrescendo, followed by his step.  He didn’t continue.  Michael couldn’t bear the cliffhanger and finally asked.  “What happened?”  Declan’s brows forrowed and his eyes glistened as if he was reliving the memory.  He probably was.  “There was a fire and she went to save a little boy who was caught in a fishing net.  The smoke got to her and she passed out.  When I finally found her, she was barely breathing.  The child - _our_ \- child, was no more.” 

Michael released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.  The two walked in silence.  When the memory past, Declan continued, “She was seven months pregnant.”

“Declan, I’m so sorry.”  Without a pause, Declan cut Michael off again.  “After a few months, I asked her to marry me before she was ready.  Still healing from the incident.  After a year, I decided not to wait and married another woman.”  Michael was stunned.  The way Declan talked about this Claire, it sounded as if he affections had not wavered.  “Why?”  A sad laugh sounded from Declan.  “I ask myself the same thing.  I wonder if I hadn’t married, would she still be alive?”  Michael went to speak, but Sokanon announced our presence at Malcom Brown’s camp and the question died in the cold.

Back at the ale house Claire finally decided to make an appearance.  Walking up to Grace, she leaned her right hip on the bar, pouring herself a drink.  “You told Declan.”  Without looking up from her inventory book, Grace nodded.  “Mhm.”

“I asked you not to.”  Claire took a sip.  “And do you a disservice?  No.”  Calmly, Claire rested her drink on the counter, “It wasn’t your place.  Heads up.”  The bar became eerily silent as Lord Benton strut through the front doors displaying his abusive use of power, followed by Captain Chesterfield.  Grace finally looked up from the book, setting her pen down.  One word had all the patrons scrambling out of their seats.  “Leave.”  Imogen hid Grace’s inventory book, making herself look busy.  “Lord Benton.  Can I offer you something?”  He looked at her wares.  “Brandy.”  The women stood in silence while Grace poured the liquor into a cup.  Benton looked up from the counter and eyed Claire.  “Claire!  Well what a pleasant surprise.  Heard you were gone for quite some time.”  Claire nodded, lifting her chin higher.  “Just got back.”

“What might be the reason for your return?”  Claire clenched her jaw.  “I missed my sister.”  Benton smiled.  “Ah yes, family.  Always is a comfort to have them around yes?”  He eyed Grace again.  “Something has come to my attention, which is very troubling.  The Lake Walker boy.  You did not inform me that he was in your care.”  He took a large gulp of his brandy.  “I dinna wish to waste your time.  Given your new responsibilities of acting governor since Mr. Threadwell’s untimely death.”  Claire shook her head, Benton smiled.  “Sparing me the trouble.  Hmm, how thoughtful.”  He walked away from the bar, raising his head to look around the room.  “You’ve fared well with this place.”  Benton began to threaten Grace.  All the while Claire just stood in the corner, shaking her head.

Benton finally left, leaving Chesterfield in the ale house to collect Grace’s illegal liquor.  Before they could talk, Claire butted in.  “What the hell Grace?!  Why can you never learn to keep your mouth shut?  You’re way in over your head!”

“I got this!”  She turned to Chesterfield.  “What the hell is going on?”  He continued packing the bottles into an unmarked crate.  “I got this too.” 

“Like hell you do!”  Claire shouted.  “You guys are asking for trouble and I’m not going to be around when it all goes down.”  Claire stormed out the back, leaving Grace alone with Chesterfield. 

A few hours later, Claire walked into Grace having a conversation with Jean-Marc Rivard.  Stomping over Claire was in a rage.  “Get out.”

“Claire.” Jean-Marc smiled.  “I said get out.”  Jean-Marc nodded, taking a letter and walking out of the ale house.  “Jean-Marc is one of my informants, Grace.”

“I know.” 

“And you know who he works for?”

“Yes.”

“I told you not to do dealings with him!  You’re going to bring him here and it will only start trouble!  Grace, stop this now!”

“I need him Claire!  Why don’t you just trust me!?”

“Because I know how Samuel is… and I don’t want to see you dead.”  Grace stood and whispered to her sister.  “I know.  But I need him and I don’t want to use you for information.  I don’t know how much longer you’ll be here.”  Claire looked up at her sister defeated.  “Okay.”


	7. Wolves PART 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 10 days! Whoops. This chapter is excessively long, so hopefully I delivered and made up for the wait. I've been playing, for the first time, Dishonored 2 and well... that game is punishing (not like Dark Souls) so it takes me forever to do it right.

The ale house was busier than normal winter days in the early afternoon.  The sounds of patrons laughing amongst each other was heartening to the soul creating a joyous vibe from towns folk to busy workers inside of the wooden building.  The sounds of liquor being poured and fire crackling under the mantle piece while the smell of smoked sausage and brie cheese filled the November air.  Boots were tapping to the rhythm, creating a creak in the floorboards, of the piccolo and violin playing in unison together.

The last few days had been relatively peaceful and, luckily, uneventful.  Grace was in a cheery mood, sporting one of her rare smiles on her face.  Standing behind the bar, the pair of sisters watched over the patrons while Imogen and Mary danced from guest to guest, refilling drinks and taking orders to be filled.  The patrons knew to respect the women, otherwise they would have to deal with Grace.  It was a healthy dose of fear from patron to owner. 

Leaning to her right, but never turning her head, Grace was the first to speak to her sister.  “It’s been quiet the last few days.”  Running her eyes over the thin, but rowdy, crowd, she added, “Politically at least.”  Claire searched for two clear glasses, reaching for a bottle of water and emptying it into the glasses, handing one to her sister.  They both took a deep drink of the cool liquid.  “Is it wishful thinking to want this war to be over?”  Claire pursed her lips and shook her head.  “It’s more of a feud.  A bloody, murderous, endless, feud.  But no.  I fear it won’t ever end until either Benton or… Declan… is dead.  Then, the world will continue on.”

Grace turned her head to her sister, gently placing her hand on top of hers.  “I know you still love him.”  Licking her lips of the dew from the water, she clicked her tongue, and stared into the bottom of the glass.  “I’m going to see him tonight.  Try to talk him out of this foolish revenge wish he has.”  She paused, “Maybe a death wish.” 

“He won’t you know.”

“But yet I’ll still try.”  A few moments of nonspeaking silence hung between them.  “I’ve decided, a little too late, I’d rather not do business with Samuel.  But the letter has been sent, when he arrives, I will tell him I procured a buyer.” 

“That’s smart, Grace.  Don’t, at all, give him any other information or look as if you may be lying.  He will know.”  The door swung open wide, letting the cold wind into the ale house while the warm air inside invited in the new faces.  Sucking in their breaths, Grace whispered.  “Redcoats.  I haven’t seen some of them before.  They are new.”  Shaking her head, Claire responded, “I haven’t heard anything from my informants.”  For the first time in a long time, Claire was left in the dark.  She had no idea who those new soldiers were and was frustrated that she didn’t. 

White-knuckling the splintery counter, the two women waited as Benton’s Captain approached them.  Grace poured a glass of liquor, pushing it forward slightly.  “From the Frigate?”

“Names Johnson.  Came the fuck out of fuckin’ nowhere with a stick up his ass.  Asked me where the church was.”  Both women were shocked at the new information.  For Claire, for the first time in a long time.  “Jesus Christ.”  Wanting to know more, Claire spoke up.  “Why is a senior officer suddenly showing up in Fort James unannounced?”  Noticing Claire, he glanced at her, then slightly turned his head over his shoulder, checking to see if the Captain has stayed in place.  “Ah, don’t worry.  I can handle this prick.”  Claire and Grace watched as the Captain abruptly left the establishment, looking like he knew he wasn’t going to find what he came to Fort James for, here.  “Well the prick is leaving.”  With an irritated sigh and a quick gulp of his drink, Chesterfield stomped out after Johnson. 

Turning to her sister, Claire leaned her right hip on the bar, turning her head away from the front of the house, crossing her arms over her chest, and speaking in a tone only Grace could hear.  “I don’t like being left in the dark, not having information _prior_ to shit hitting the fan.”  Shaking her head, she paused.  “If that Captain Johnson is here that means that shit is about to get really bad here fast… and that Benton is in some deep shit.  For what?  I intend to find out.”  Claire stood up, uncrossing her arms, and straightening out her button down flannel.  Spinning on her heel, she started to walk to the back.  “Don’t wait for me.  I’ll be out late.”  Stopping, Claire turned back around to add, “Chesterfield mentioned that the first thing Johnson asked is where the church was.  He is religious.  Use that.”  Grace nodded as Claire waltzed to her furs and out of the back door.

Claire followed the Redcoats to the late governor’s home.  Sticking low to the ground, she searched the area for any other soldiers, watching the two captains walk inside the white house.  Pausing for a moment, she adjusted her hood and started looking for a window to see inside.  Soft crunches of snow sounded in her ears, trying to keep herself as low profile as possible.  Finding the first window, she peeked with only one of her eyes to see if she could see the two men.  There they were, walking towards her.  “Shit.”  Ducking down quickly, she took a few breaths to measure her time.  Taking a deep sigh, she looked back up again.  Both men looked as if they were in a heated conversation.  She tried to listen, but it was no use, she couldn’t hear.  Glancing down at the window’s seal, she noticed it had not been shut all the way.  “Thank god.”  She quickly searched for a small, sturdy stick to wedge in between the window and the seal to pry it slightly open and without drawing attention to herself.

Once finding a small stick, she began to work at the window.  It moved slightly upward and Claire was singing praises that it was well oiled.  Finally, voices hit her ears.  “…- you’ll be garrisoned wherever the fuck I say you’ll be garrisoned.”  Johnson took a step forward, sizing up Chesterfield.  “You will also give me access to company ledgers and a key to the Company storehouse, as Lord Fisher has requested.  That means now, Captain.” 

As Chesterfield’s footsteps receded, Claire slid down against the house, ducking under the window.  It wasn’t much information, but it was something.  Lord Fisher sent Johnson.  Shit.  Benton was in much more trouble than originally thought.  Why?  Are they accusing him of cheating HBC?  Or even possibly they thought him now inadequate at his job.  She needed to know more. 

Sucking in cold breath, Claire stared up into the winter sun between the tall, snow covered trees.  In just a couple of hours, it would begin to set.  Adjusting her furs closer to her body she crouched away from the window and headed deeper into the thick forest, setting out for Declan Harp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same same same. Kudos, comments, subscribe!


	8. Wolves PART 2

Declan stood near the fire as Sokanon and Michael slept soundly, hands in pockets, and his gaze planted on the fire.  Crackling sounds of wood and a distant wolf howling were the only noises he could make out.  He began to recap on today’s events.  Dimanche left and as much as it pained Declan to at admit, his former companion wasn’t completely wrong, but his pride refused him to sway any other way. 

Taking a deep sigh and filling his lungs to the brim, he turned his head over to Michael.  Can he trust him?  His gut told him yes, but Dimanche believed otherwise.  He lost a good man over someone he met only days past.  His feet crunched the broken wood beneath him as he walked over the Michael giving him a firm tap on the back with his boot.    

Wrapped in furs and barely able to move, Michael quickly awoke, turning to face Declan with a puzzled look on his face.  They stood silent for a moment before Declan finally asked his question.  “Can I trust you?”  Again, silence.  Declan crouched next to Michael, resting his arm on his knee, looking focused as always.  Michael leaned up further to meet him, like a sign of respect.  “Of course you can trust me.”

“It’s going to be dangerous in Fort James.”  Unwavered, but quiet, Michael responded.  “I know.”

“And your girl, Clenna.  When the spring comes and a ship departs for England, will you be on it?”  For a moment, Michael just stared blankly and eventually, turning his gaze down, giving all the information Declan needed.  Standing up, he spoke, “You have a decision to make.” 

Walking away, Declan sat down near a broken log, staring back into the dancing flames of the fire.  Michael, on the other hand, was now not able to sleep.  He thought about England so much at first, but now it was becoming a distant memory.  Here is where adventure was.  But Declan had put it blatantly for him, turning it into solid form and sinking it deep into the pit of his stomach.  The question ravaged his mind and keeping him awake and staring into the night. 

Twenty minutes had passed and Michael was still uneasy.  A silent sigh escaped him as he heard a quiet, feminine voice.  “Don’t turn around.”  He was shocked still, listening to the voice command him and he did as was asked.  But his heart began to race a fear took over.  He heard shuffling as the stranger sat down a few paces away.  “You’re a hard man to find.” 

“I try to keep it that way.”  She chuckled softly.  “But I still found you.”  They sat in silence for a moment, but now more awake than ever, Michael intensively listened, relaxing a little.  “I came to ask you to stop your pursuit for Benton, Declan.” 

“And you know my terms in order for that to happen.”

“And you know it won’t happen, Declan.  I don’t trust you.  Your poor choices of late have proven as much to me.”

“Then you know I will keep on.”  Sighing the woman sounded distraught, exasperated.  “Declan, please.  More Redcoats showed up today in Fort James.  HBC sent a Captain Johnson to reign in Benton.  Likely to keep him in check or possibly eliminate him.  He may no longer be a problem to you.”

“He will die by my hand.” 

“Declan, stop this.  I will negotiate with Benton on your behalf.  Settle a deal or something so you are safe.”  Declan chuckled.  “His deal would be your head served to me.”  The causality in the way Declan spoke to the female led Michael to believe they knew each other and at least, were cordial.  Wanting to see the woman, he shifted as if he was shifting in his sleep.  Keeping his eye lids as closed as possible, he first saw Declan.  His hands were loose on his knees, but his gaze was so fierce into the fire, like at any moment it would erupt, burning all within a mile radius.  Overall, he seemed tense and conflicted.  Michael’s eyes shifted to the woman sitting beside him, but she faced the dark forest, he couldn’t get a good look at her face.  He noticed how the flames danced off her dark, black curls giving them a healthy glow.  She too also seemed defeated.  Her head hung in her hands as her shoulders slightly shifted up and down taking deep breaths.

“Declan please.  I-… I still care about you, deeply.  I can’t stand to watch you do this to yourself.”  She lifted her head, but did not turn to face Declan.  Shaking his head, Declan licked his lips and spoke.  “Yet you refuse to come back to me.” 

“Yes.  What you did still lingers in my heart.  And even if I did you wouldn’t quit your endeavors.  I’d come home to a mutilated carcass that used to be your body.  And the pain would be ever more present than now.”  Declan was the first to move, swinging his leg over the broken log, he shifted closer to her his gloved hands forced her face to look at him, his eyes searching hers.  She was magnificent.  Even in the shadows from the flickering flames in contrast to the dark night, Michael could see her darkened caramel skin against Declan’s glove.  Her lips were plump and her eyebrows furrowed, worry strewn across her face. 

But what surprised Michael even more, was the broken crackle that was Declan’s voice.  If he hadn’t known better, it sounded as if the man was on the verge of tears.  Declan, the most feared man in the New World who slaughters and skins without a bat of an eyelash.  “Claire, please.  I promise.  I-…”  His voice sounded desperate. 

Claire?  Declan spoke of her, brokenly, but the love was there.  That was the woman before his wife.  How all this madness began.  With a woman.  With Declan’s heart.  It was odd to see her here, but she was beautiful and Michael silently commended her for coming out into the thick of a winters night to try to save him. 

He watched Claire place her small hands on Declan’s forearms, gently pushing the limbs away from her and back onto his lap.  Licking her lips and tightly shutting her eyes, she sounded equally as pained.  “Think about what I said, Declan.”  With those parting words, she disappeared into the forest. 

Stunned, Michael had never seen this big, strong, feared man look so defeated by a 130 pound woman.  He was at the height of his vulnerability because of the love of Claire.  He sat there, unmoving.  The palms of his hands faced up towards the sky, sitting limply in front of him where she sat while his head hung to his chest.

Michael felt for the man.  Because he was only just a _man_ and Michael was well aware of what the effects of the love of a woman can do a male: empower or destroy him.  He couldn’t find it in himself to hate the downtrodden women, he understood she was only trying to protect her heart, but she didn’t see the broken Declan now and his obvious heartache, even without seeing his face. 

In that moment, Michael saw not only the feared beast everyone else saw, but he saw a man who was human in a steel shell.  Michael no longer felt the ache of whether he would leave the New World or not.  He vowed to help Declan and pledged his silent service to him.


	9. Wolves PART 3

The morning stillness was a comforting pleasure for Claire as her and Imogen sat quietly, side by side, making wick and wax for candle sticks and storing them for future use in the back of the ale house.  Claire began to enjoy Imogen, though she still didn’t trust her.  Tasks such as these were always repetitive and the complacent silence of Imogen made the work barrable.  She believed the girl had talent and even thought of making Imogen one of her informants into Benton’s personal affairs, but in present time, she wouldn’t needlessly waste Imogen’s life, and it would be wasted.  Benton is on edge, if he wasn’t before, with the arrival of Captain Johnson.  With her working at the ale house, it was a possibility she would gain and give favor in Grace, Benton knew that was a possibility.  So Claire would bide her time.

As Claire’s fingers began to cramp from the replay of her hands motions, she began to break the silence and for once, speak on friendly terms with anyone.  Clenching and unclenching her fists, Claire spoke softly, “Do you want to be here?”  Without taking her eyes off the task at hand, Imogen furrowed her brows and pursed her lips.  “Hmm?” 

“Imogen, rest.  We’ve been at it for hours.”  Imogen turned her head to Claire, nodded and sat back in her chair, clasping her hands across her thighs.  Imogen was excruciatingly intimidated by Claire.  Her persona seemed to challenge danger and invite friendship all at once, broken but not beyond repair.  Despite her healthy fear of Claire, she admired her greatly.  In the few weeks Imogen was under employment for Grace, Claire had never stopped being Grace’s sister, first and foremost.  Always mindful of her safety, Claire possessed a fierceness she only wished she had, but yet was still tender in most of the right ways. 

Sighing, Imogen circled back to Claire’s original question.  “Yes, I do.”

“Are you still loyal to Benton?”  Claire crossed her legs and arms, baring right at Imogen.  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling interrogated.  “I-… Lord Benton has done me no favors save rescue me from an English brothel.”

“You feel no loyalty, yet you still call him by _lord_.  Do you wish to go back to the whore house?”

“Old habits die hard I suppose and no I do not.  I wanted a way out and an opportunity presented itself.  Unfortunately, the opportunity came with many strings attached.” 

“Has he forced himself on you?  Are you _afraid_ of him?”  Imogen shook her head, then abruptly stopped at the next question.  “No, for that, I am blessed.  But, the only fear I have of him is he will ask me to do something most terrible.  I know he will not lay a hand on me, but he has leverage over me to do his bidding.”  Claire took in a sharp inhale, cooling the insides of her nostrils.  She licked her lips then bit the inside of her cheek, all the while sizing up Imogen.  Claire scratched her chin and tilted her head to the side.  “With some work, refining, you’d make a great informant.”  Clearing her throat, Claire finally asked.  “How would you like to have leverage over him?”

Imogen perked up.  Straightening her back and lifting her eyebrows, she whipped her head to Claire.  “How?”

“I am a secrets trader, spymaster if you will.  I have personal informants over each major or developing country.  Not all my work, I took the business from my father when he passed, but I still use them and have added to my numbers since.  I would need you for as long as you are in Benton’s service and if you wish to discontinue being under my employment, all you need to do is say so, but the payment will stop as well.  Oh yes, you will collect a handsome sum of money for every piece of valuable information you provide me.  I will never give you information collected from my other informants, unless a client asks for specific information in which I will provide you.”  Imogen’s mouth hung open.  Claire a secrets trader?  It should surprise her, but it didn’t.  She always seemed to know more information than the general public.  “What kind of information?”

“Everything really.  Gossip, leverage, company trades.  I also know things that any average person would have a hard time sleeping knowing the information I know.”

“Do you pick and choose your clients?  Or are you in the neutral territory?”  Claire glanced down, studying her brown, leather boots.  “Depends on the circumstance.  There is a necessary balance between good and evil, it… is rather hard to make those decisions and I will never ask you to make those for me.  I will live with the consequences.”  Imogen’s face softened, “How do you cope?”

“Sometimes, I don’t.”  With a bang, the door leading to the front of the ale house swung open, revealing a panicked Captain Chesterfield.  “Where is Grace?”  Calmly standing from her chair, Claire looked to Imogen.  “Think about what I said.”  Claire nodded and motioned with her hand for Imogen to help Mary with the front of the house. 

When Imogen quietly left, Chesterfield swung around the table, clearly in search of something.  “Where is Grace?”  Claire turned to face Chesterfield, her backside relaxed against the table as she folded her arms under her chest.  “She should be back shortly.”

“Where the fuck is she?  I need those company ledgers.” 

“I don’t like you Captain Chesterfield.  You’d throw Grace into a wintery lake if you thought you’d been suspected or to get ahead.”  He stopped searching and angrily stared at her.  “Watch your tongue.”

“Quite impossible I assure you.  But you’d better watch your back, because of Grace is harmed in your little games, I’ll be coming for it.”  Her eyes barred into his, driving her point home.  Chesterfield took a step up, fist tight, about to speak as Grace walked in from the front of the ale house.  “Chesterfield, I was informed you were here.”  Chesterfield angrily stared at Claire for a few more silent moments then moved his eyes to Grace.  “Company legers.  Now.”


	10. Wolves PART 4

“I’ll save you the trouble.  Benton is out of favor, why else would they send someone from the Company?  Their looking for an excuse to sack Benton.  I hope you will do your part in this, Grace.”  Without needing any explanation, Grace had already known what Claire meant.  “I know.  I’ll tell you all about it shortly.”

Once Chesterfield left with Company records, Grace found Imogen, ready to give her a game plan.  “I have a job for you.”  Grace explained to Imogen that her task was to lure Captain Johnson back to the ale house and expose him to gain leverage so he will be neutral in the affairs.  Leaning in towards her sister and turning her head away from the third women, Claire whispered in her ear.  “She isn’t ready.  Send Mary.  Imogen is too bold for a man who is inexperienced.”

“No.  I want to test her.  See if I can trust her.”  Turning away from Grace, Claire nodded in understanding, sending Imogen away.

Grace was the first to turn and walk of the back, headed for the front when a muffled scream was heard after she entered the threshold.  Rapid boots stomping the floorboards, Claire rushed to her sister’s aid finding Declan standing against the wall whispering comforting words in her ear.  “You tryin’ to scare me to death?” Claire couldn’t find the words to say.  She knew he was here for one of two reasons.  He either accepted her offer or was back on his rampage.  She begged for the former knowing well it was the ladder.  “Are you here for my proposition?”  Claire’s voice was laced with a plea.  “No.”  Shaking her head, Grace spoke for her.  “Then you wait till nightfall when Redcoats are less like to barge in.  It isn’t safe Declan.”  Turning his eyes to Claire, he nodded.

When the chilly night came, Declan made his appearance as he promised, asking all sorts of questions about the new arrival of soldiers.  Him, Grace, and Claire sat a small table by the crackling fire, warm drinks in hand.  It was pleasantly quiet around the ale house.  “I need gunpowder.”  There it was, the reoccurring hate for revenge.  Claire bowed her head and exhaled a defeated breath, white knuckling her drink.  “Ten barrels, maybe more.”

“Why?”  Grace asked.  “I was going to throw you a party, but now you’ve ruined it.”  He smiled to lighten the mood surrounding his question.  Without lifting her head, Claire finally contributed to the conversation.  “Because he intends to blow up those hundred or so soldiers, with Benton inside.”  The room fell into silence once more.  Only the echoes of their breathing reverberated in the walls.  Declan was the first to speak.  “Gracie.  I need this.”  Standing she turned away from him, refilling her drink at the bar.  “Harp, I run an ale house.  What the hell do I know about gunpowder?”  Declan went to answer her, but she pushed on.  “And what about my sister,” she gestured to Claire with her hand, “do you not realize how much strain this on her?”  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.  “If you want any kind of life with her, as you and I have discussed in private so many times, then you need to stop this.”

“She knows my terms.”  He watched Claire, his hand reaching under the table to her knee in a gentle gesture.  “I’m not gonna help you and there is the door.  Every minute of every day you dream about killing Lord Benton.  You lie awake at night thinkin’ about how you might do it.  And you think that’ll make you feel better?  That it’ll bring you peace?”  He nodded in affirmation.  “It will bring me peace.”

“No Declan, your peace is right here, next to you.”  They sat in a stare off while Claire listened, unable to move her head.  A strong woman she was, but Declan rendered her helpless and speechless.  Good and bad. 

Mary knocked softly, announcing that Declan had a visitor.  Claire was grateful for the added body.  Declan stood, squeezed Claire’s knee and while standing, he grabbed his hatchet and headed for the back. 

For the first time in a long time, Claire cried.  Not hard or loud, just a few minuscule tears slipped from her eyes as her heart clenched to the painstakingly, devastating blow to her chest.  Sighing, Grace placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder as comfort then walked towards where Declan stood.  Claire heard her sister speak.  “I’ll make it happen, the gunpowder.  Just get me the silver.”

“Thank you.”  She stalked over to Declan, folding her arms.  “There is one condition.  You will make things right.  With Claire, I mean.”  Declan bit his lip and scratched his eye.  “She won’t let me.”

“Bull shite, you haven’t tried, Declan.  What you did to her, that was awful.  Can you imagine her doing that to you?”  In all honesty, he couldn’t.  Claire was a better person than himself.  But the thought of her married to another man, in another man’s bed, both angered and devastated him.  He needed her like bees need pollen in spring. 

Later in the evening, Claire had a sickening feeling in her chest.  A premonition, though Claire didn’t believe in superstition.  “Grace, something is going to happen.”

“Claire, be calm.  I’m sure-…”

“No, Grace you don’t understand.  There have been more Redcoats in the town lately, patrolling.  Something isn’t-…”  Her sentence left unfinished as she heard the front door burst open and soldier after soldier came pouring into the small space.  Trailing their guns at everyone who wasn’t in a red uniform.  “We need him alive!”  One soldier yelled to the others.  Smiling, Declan was ready for a fight.  “Good luck with that.”  Claire wanted to help defend him, but she was no good in hand to hand combat.  Infiltrating, in and out, quietly knock out a soldier or two was her specialty.  Not this.  She would be useless and she was as she watched him. 

Claire knew there was no good ending for this.  There was too many of the Brits and only three of them.  Her chest tightened in what was about to happen, her eyes never leaving him.  They were severely outnumbered and sorely unprepared.  Declan shouted for Michael and Sokanon to leave, without them, he would be on his own.  But he stayed behind, using his energy to fight the enemy. 

When they were out of sight, the Redcoats finally overtook Declan, all weapons pointed directly at his head.  Claire already began to feel her lip quiver and her fine hairs stand on end.  Rushing to him now would do them both no good.  She needed a quiet strategy to get him back… if Benton hadn’t already killed him by the time the found him. 

“Please Declan.”  Grace shouted.  “By order of Lord Benton, Governor of Fort James, Declan Harp you are under arrest.”  Declan’s hard gaze turned to Grace first then softened at the shaking head of Claire.  He disappointed her again, but he did not regret his decision to eliminate Benton.  It felt like her little hand had his heart in her palm, and she was squeezing it.  He was feeling her pain.  Sighing, he complied.

When the calm finally settled in.  Claire’s knees unlocked as gravity pulled her hard to the floor.  Breathing heavily, she spoke.  “I have to find him, Grace.  I- I can’t…”  Grace crouched down near her sister.   “We will find him.  We have a bit of time.”  Her voice sounded as if it was in shackles clanking together.  “Only because Benton will torture him first, gutting him.  Benton will kill him.”  Grace hated to see her beautiful, headstrong of a bull sister seem so defeated and small.  Only when it came to him.  She was only a woman after all.  Made strong by the love of a man who could also tear her apart with the beat of a heart. 


	11. The Disciple PART 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this, there will be one more "chapter" but don't fret! Once season 2 comes out I will have a whole new series come out for that season. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty excited for it!

“Every building, every alley!  I want every corner searched until Michael Smyth is found!”  Every Redcoat was in every street, every corner, every crevice looking for Michael Smyth.  Claire found her strength by taking a deep gulp of air into her lungs and pushed herself back onto her feet.  Not wobbling in the slightest.  “We need to hide the two.”  Without waiting for Grace, she walked back to find Sokanon and Michael hiding just beyond the ale house in the shadows.  She whistled and they peeked their heads out, carefully walking towards Claire and Grace.  “Let’s move.”  She glanced at her sister, “We will hide them in the storage shed around the corner.”  She motioned with her head and took off in that direction.

The four of them were hooded in dark coats and furs.  Shielding them from the bitter cold and urgent eyes of the guard.  They crouched low to the ground, staying hidden in the shadows.  Claire led, followed by Michael, Sokanon, then Grace at their tail.  Claire found the shed and unlocked its barriers and shuffled the other three inside, holding the door open for them while keeping a lookout. 

Grace found the secret room hidden under the floorboards.  The door squeaked open as Grace ushered the other two inside.  Walking up next to her sister, Claire looked inside the small hidden crevice.  Sokanon locked eyes with Claire, “Thank you.”  Clenching her jaw, Claire nodded.  Claire knew Sokanon was not very fond of her, with good reason though misplaced.  Sokanon felt as if her sister had been cheated and Claire escaped; and maybe she had.  Aside from her small nod, Claire did not acknowledge Sokanon’s thanks, instead hurrying her words.  “Sit tight and stay quiet.  You’ll be safe here.”  Grace handed a lantern to the woman and closed the door. 

The two sisters nonchalantly walked out of the storage house and back to the bar.  Without turning her attentive gaze from around her, Grace reassured Claire.  “We will come up with a plan.  We will find him.”  Claire didn’t respond.  She was a realist and most times had no clouded judgements when it came to events having a great deal of potential to go south.  She had no doubts they would find Declan.  Dead or alive. 

Declan hung from the ceiling, restrained.  His body was chilled to the bone and he chuckled at the thought of Benton freezing him alive.  It was a possibility but unlikely.  He suspected Benton wanted more blood, more mental scares from the torture he was sure to give.  He knew because he wanted the same.  Declan was not afraid, but he had to admit he was slightly intimidated by the sharp instruments set neatly on the table before him and by the end of the night, each one would be covered in his blood.

Benton sent off his lap dog and turned to face him, his face made of stone.  Licking his lips and tightening his jaw, he began his monologue.  “It’s impressive,” he began, “the fear you provoke in others.  It demands respect.  We’re going to have a discussion about respect or more precisely, your lack of respect for me.”  Benton turned from him, examining carefully his instruments of torture and plucked one from its place, weighing it, and smiled in sadistic satisfaction.  “I would like to propose a tally.  How many of my men have you killed of late?” 

Uncomfortably, Declan twisted his hands against the rope, starting to feel the burning from the threads on his wrists.  He didn’t like the look of the scalpel Benton was going to use on him.  He continued to name off every man Declan had killed and marked it severely on his back.  He didn’t scream, but he felt every cut.  Sucking in air, he held his breath to try to numb the pain.  All the while, Benton never used gloves.  He enjoyed the feel of Declan’s warm blood slipping through his fingers.  It proved to him that his desire was finally happening.  He stopped, staring angrily at Declan.  “Fourteen men.  My men.  Fourteen English soldiers.  Fourteen wives bereft and grieving.  Fourteen sons made orphans, just like yourself.”  He walked away but continued his speech.  “Fourteen death sentences for Declan Harp.  Perhaps I shall hang you fourteen times.”  Benton almost looked excited as he sheathed the scalpel but that quickly was replaced as he walked back over to him, empty handed.  “You turned your back on me, Declan.  You will show me respect and you will beg for my forgiveness.  Locked in a staring contest, Declan did not blink, his resolve was set in stone. 

Benton turned away in disgust, taking a sip of his whiskey he began to rehash the past leading up to Declan’s revenge.  The way he spoke, he almost sounded sad as he spoke about times long ago.  Almost like he wanted Declan to be his own child.  But all was a farce as he reached for the next object to slice Declan with.  He turned back to the hanging man, taking slow, intimidating steps and gradually stabbing Declan in the lower abdomen.  “Oh, something to say?”

“I always hated you.”  Declan grit out.  “As soon as I could get away from you, I did.”  Benton did not hesitate to rip out the knife, cutting him deep in the process as blood poured from the wound.  Declan winced loudly, thrashing his body. 

“I’m the devil, am I?  Because I see them as less than human, as savages, feed them cheap brandy and take their land.  And so to prove me wrong,” Benton’s lip quivered as hid brows scrunched together, “you went with them, took one as your wife.  You forced me to teach you a lesson because you turned away from me.  That’s why your family was killed.  You have no one to blame but yourself.”  Benton selected a small, skinny, but still sharp instrument and shoved it deep into Declan’s underarm, causing him to yelp in pain.  “What about Claire, Declan?  You once professed your undying love for her all those years ago.  What happened? Of course she was still native and I didn’t approve but she was respectful, if not a savage herself.  You betrayed her Declan, you betrayed her as you betrayed me.”  Declan hung his head, guilt overriding any physical pain he was in. 

Chesterfield walked in, giving Benton news he did not want to hear, further aggravating him.  “Find him!”  Benton walked back to his table, pouring more whiskey, bringing it to his lips, blood still coating his hands. “Do you know how your family died?”  He turned back around.  “They weren’t just killed.  Your son, though a boy, was still strong.  He fought on longer than one would expect from any child.”  Declan’s lips began to quiver and his heart began clenching in his chest.  The agony of that night resurfacing brutally.  “He was desperately trying to help his mother.  She was a strong woman.  Very resilient.  And when she finally died, she did so by calling out your name, but of course there was no answer.”

Declan’s resolve crumbed in front of his enemy as salty tears began to burn at his eyes.  “You lie.”  Benton stood taller, sucking in a deep breath.  “It was only at the end that the true nature of her condition was revealed.  She was carrying your unborn daughter.”  Declan sobbed, his lungs pulled tight barely able to contain air.  The words hit him like a steam engine as he called Benton a liar through desperate cries.

“Lord Benton!”  Captain Chesterfield shouted above Declan’s screams and shoved Michael through the doors.  It was only the second time Michael had seen Declan truly disturbed.  “Tie him up, here!”

“Sir.  Captain Johnson occupied the Governor’s house with his men.  He’s demanding to see you.”  Swaying side to side, he finally washed his hands and walked up to Declan, igniting the final blow.  Scratching his chin, his face was hard as stone.  “Chesterfield, put out a search for Claire Emberly.  Bring her alive, to me,” he paused, waiting for Declan to silence himself, “so I can kill her, here.”  As he walked off, Declan’s agonized screams echoed between the stone walls as he violently trashed against his restraints.  Benton was determined to torture Declan just right and killing the first and last thing he loved, was the perfect end for Declan Harp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys for reading my work! Subscribe, kudos, comments!


	12. The Disciple PART 2

Morning came with a throbbing headache and a crashing sense of hope as Claire scurried through her dossiers to search for a facility in which Declan would be.  “Nothing.”  If the location wasn’t in these papers, it meant they kept a facility far away from the town, locked up tight.  Taking deep breaths to calm herself, she closed her eyes and threaded her hands through her hair, scrunching up her face to hold back her threatening tears.  Mary and Imogen sat, quietly, trying their best to comfort Claire with their presence, but it didn’t help.

Grace closed down the ale house today to make preparations but Claire felt as if it was in memoriam.  How could she love and hate one person so much?  Easily it seems.  The silence was a remedy for her headache, but an alternate pain on her heart.

The sounds of Grace’s boots came barreling in from the back to Claire.  “He’s not in the jail.  Nobody has seen him.”  Mary stood from her chair and spoke in her usual soft voice.  “Are you sure he is still alive?”  Grace spun on her, giving her a look that could kill.  Realizing her error, she aptly apologized to Claire.  “No.”  Claire lifted her head to give her a weakened smile.  “No.  Don’t be.  I know it’s a possibility and I would be doing myself no service if I believed otherwise.”  Mary solemnly nodded her head, still feeling bad for her uncaring question.

To add to her sister, Grace continued.  “Benton is obsessed with Harp.  He’s not gonna kill him, not straight off.  I want to know where he is.”  Grace began to fix the tables and chairs in the empty room.  They were open every day, now was as good as ever to clean up the place from the brawl last night.  “Get out there, both of you.  Talk to whoever you can: company men, soldiers.  Just be discreet.”  The two ladies nodded and headed out through the back door. 

Not even five minutes later, Captain Chesterfield sauntered through the door.  Claire discreetly gathered her papers and headed off towards the back.  She didn’t think she could muster the restraint to not kill him outright.  Angrily, Grace kept picking up mugs and pushing in chairs.  “Michael Smyth and the woman.  Where are they?” Grace continued walking behind the bar.  “How should I know?”

“They were under your protection.”

“Says who?  And while we’re at it, your soldiers left quite a mess last night.  I thought we were working together?”

“They were in your back room.  Why were you giving them shelter?”  She shook her head.  “I wasn’t.”

“What is Declan Harp to you, Grace?  What the fuck is going on?”  Still shaking her head, denying every word she countered.  “You’re being paranoid.”

“Am I?”

“Why would I take such a ridiculous risk?  Harp is nothing to me.  And I have no idea where the others are.”  With that, Chesterfield sized up Grace and turned quietly out the front door. 

Grace scurried to the back where she found her sister still scanning each page, word by word, to see if there was anything she could use.  When she heard Grace come in, she raised her eyes, taking a deep breath, lifting an eyebrow at her sister.  “Don’t look at me like that.”  She rested her gaze back on the paperwork.  “I told you not to do dealing with Lord Benton’s man.”  Exasperated, Grace sat in the chair opposite of Claire, slouching forward.  “Yeah yeah, I know.  You’re always right, dear sister.”

“We’ll fix it.  It will be okay.”  Sighing, Grace nodded. 

They talked for hours, some of it, utter nonsense.  Several times Grace asked Claire if she would like her help in her search for information in the dossiers.  But Claire was patient and always politely declined.  Her excuse was that she didn’t want her sister to know the secrets she knew, the same secrets that sometimes kept her awake at night. 

They laughed, though it was laced with a tinge of sadness, but nonetheless, laughed when suddenly, an obnoxious bang sounded from the front of the tavern.  Both Claire and Grace skidded their chairs away from, running to the front.  Several patrons quickly turned to face Captain Chesterfield, tightly grabbing a blonde woman by the scruff of her neck.  “If any of you know the whereabouts of Michael Smyth, I have a message!”  Grace and Claire ran towards the struggling women, fighting her freedom from Chesterfield.  “What are you doing!?”  Grace spewed at him.  He ignored her, fighting with equal measure to keep her in his grasp.  “If he wants his girl to live, he will turn himself in!” 

Claire whispered to the raving lunatic, “If you do not wish your secrets to be aired aloud, you will let her go.”

“You will mind your business, woman.”  Grace spoke back.  “Chesterfield.”  The Captain pushed past the two women, back into the room where they sat moments ago, thrusting the woman forward. 

Chesterfield and Grace had words, while Claire walked towards the woman.  “I’m guessing you’re Clenna Dolan?”  Offering her to sit and some refreshments, the woman stilled, but nodded her head in agreement.  Once Chesterfield left, for once, Claire had no words to say.  Sighing, she fetched water and some food for the new woman. 

Not even five minutes later, Mary and Imogen came clambering into the back room.  Their faces were pink, hair windblown, and their lungs struggled for breath.  “Ms. Emberly!”  Imogen was the first to speak, her eyes wild.  “Declan.  He is in the Magazine.”  Mary finished.  Claire rushed back into the room hearing those words, she too now out of breath.  With food and drink in hand, she uncaringly dropped them onto the table spilling a bit of water on herself.  She sat in the chair across from Clenna and pushed her hair out of her face, trying to slow her rapidly pounding heart.  Grace bended down in front of Claire, placing her hands on her sister’s knees, and resting her weight in the balls of her feet.  “We will go tonight.”  Claire shook her head, eyes closed.  “No, you will go tonight.  I can’t.”  Confused, Grace forced eye contact with her sister.  “Grace, I will be hysterical.  I can’t go, I’d be no use.  I would-… I would not handle the situation well with seeing Declan in the state he will be in.”

Grace nodded her head in understanding.  “Claire, you are wise my sister.”  She smiled.  “I promise he will come out safe.” 

“I trust you.”

“Claire isn’t coming?”  Sokanon asked Grace.  Grace stood in front of Sokanon, and Clenna, explaining the plan to retrieve Declan.  “She said she would be a liability when she saw Declan’s state.”  Sokanon nodded, “She is smart.”

“I know you don’t like her, but she is.  You two will want to hurry.”  Grace went to turn away but Sokanon’s voice stopped her.  “She is a good woman.  I know that, Grace.  It just hurts, after my sister.  You understand.”  Grace studied her shoes for a moment before speaking softly, “Aye, I do.  She is my sister.”  With that, she walked to the front of the tavern where Claire stood by the fire, milking a glass of alcohol.  “They are heading out now.”  Claire nodded her head, not saying a word.  “I plan on seeing him when it is safe.”  A silent air hung about them as they heard the back door shut, signaling the two women were already on their journey. 


	13. The Gallows PART 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am afraid, this is the end of SEASON 1. When season 2 comes out, whenever that may be, I will write again so keep that lookout. It was a pleasure to write for you and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Declan woke with a start, his breathing hard and ragged.  His body was covered in sweat and his hair matted to his face.  His body accepted the bitter, cool air running over him.  With a pained face, slowly he pushed his coverings from his body and hauled himself to his feet, reaching for his weapons.  Declan struggled to his feet with a grimace and a deep groan.  His hand instinctually reached for his stomach feeling a ghostly pain under his fingertips.  Grabbing a few logs and some kindling, he staggered into the foliage to start a personal fire. 

He sat near the new fire, recollecting on the past 24 hours or what he assumed was 24 hours, ago.  Benton had threatened Claire and Benton was known for making good on his demented promises.  As much as Declan ached to see Claire to protect her from what he brought upon them, he knew he had to directly cut off the head of the snake: kill Benton.  He had wanted to drag it out, to painfully dissect him and see if he bled black like he assumed, but no.  He was already selfish and he wouldn’t risk Claire’s life more than he already had.  Guilt began to eat at him in more ways than what had just recently transpired.  And worse off, he felt guilt tangled with relief that his late wife had past and not Claire even though the truth from Benton stung him greatly still.

Declan waited until there were hot coals under the fire before placing his blade into the fire.  His eyes transfixed onto the flames until his blade grew into a hot orange.  Tightly gripping the hilt of the blade with a sweaty palm, he lifted his dirty shirt and without hesitation placed the blade directly onto the stab wound Benton gave him, further reminding him to put an end to his enemy.  He held in his cries and for a few, long moments the blade sat on his skin and wasn’t removed until Declan started to smell the odor of burning flesh. 

Giving himself very little reprieve, he stood onto his feet, grabbing his lantern and walked off into the night. 

Grace stood across from Captain Chesterfield.  Her hip was cocked and her hands gripped the back of the wooden chair.  A look of surprised disgust was written on her face.  “So you’d be content with a garrison full of dead soldiers, is that it?”  Chesterfield shook his head, clearly not understanding her words.  “Why do you give a shit about those men?”  Rolling her eyes, Grace swung her body around and sat in front of Chesterfield.  “Because it’s an opportunity, earn their loyalty.  With their support as well as your own soldiers, you can arrest Benton now.  Now’s the time.  Lock Lord Benton up and you are Governor.”  In almost a sensual voice, Chesterfield piqued his eyebrow and spoke.  “You’d like that?”  Grace retracted slightly, but not enough for him to notice her slight disgust.  “Very much.”

They sat quietly and as Chesterfield looked as if he was going to speak, Grace grabbed the mug sitting in front of the Captain, stood quickly, and dismissed him with a few words.  He stared at her back as she walked to the bar, watching her stiffen.  He tried to think of words to say to keep him there but thought better of it and walked out of the tavern. 

Grace stood stark still at the sight of Declan until Chesterfield was out of hearing vicinity.  She walked to the back and her face dropped.  “Oh my god.  You look terrible.  Where are the others?”  Declan looked deathly ill with his clammy skin.  She rushed past him, closing the drapes to the door.  “I came alone.  I need food.  Ale.  Where is Claire?”  His knees began to buckle as Grace helped him sit in a chair against the wall.  “Of course.  She’s been gone since morning.  She will be back.  It’s not safe for you here.  Look Declan, I know why you came back here-…”  Declan cut her off, “Benton has sent a demand for Claire.  She isn’t safe, you need to find her.” His breathing was labored as he tried to push the words in urgency.  He looked Grace in the eyes.  “I need to know she is safe.”

A fearful shock covered Grace’s face.  “Oh god.  Claire.”  She breathed hard through her mouth, sucking in air.  Shaking her head, she pressed on.  “You need to wait.  Aside from Claire, I know you still have plans for Benton. Benton will self-destruct.  Chesterfield-…”

“If Benton lives, nothing will change.  And I will be the cause of Claire’s death.”

“And if you fail?  Look at you.  You can hardly breathe.  If you die, what then?”  Declan sat in silence, glaring at Grace.  “There will be nothing between Benton and Claire, I can’t stop Benton from killing her because of you.”  The last bit stung Declan right into the depths of his heart.  Shaking her head, without another word Grace stood up and helped Declan to the small shack to give him food and ample rest.  She knew he would not stop. 

Once they finally made it to the safety of the small room.  Grace filled him in on what Benton had been doing the past 10 days and Declan was more than satisfied to know he was unraveling.  Grace began to clean his wounds, her brows furrowed in concentration.  The two sat in a comfortable silence while she continued her ministrations when finally, she spoke just above a whisper, “Claire loves you so much Declan, despite what you did to her.  Her heart still beats because of you.”  Grace shook her head, still focused on his wounds, and continued, “She would see her life gone before yours and you take her love for granted.  You’re in too deep now Declan and now she may die because of your inability to let go.”  A stinging tear sat in the corner of Grace’s eye, forcing it to stay where it was while she brought her eyes to his.  “She is my sister, Declan, I love her.  She’s my family.”  Declan clenched his jaw.  “But she is yours too.  Fix this.  Please.”  He began to weep.  He wept at the loss of his wife, son, and unborn child and at the truth of Grace’s words. He had brought down wrath upon Claire and he hated himself for it.  “Benton tortured them… and he will torture Claire.”  More for herself than him, Grace held him as he cried into her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos, comments, subscribe!


	14. The Gallows PART 2

Claire returned to the ale house in the early evening.  Blissful chatter filled the room as the warm hearth radiated heat.  She nodded at Imogen and Mary and headed to the back expecting to find her sister but with met with an empty room.  Sighing, she walked around the room, gathering food to fill her empty stomach.  Her thoughts were filled with Declan.  She needed to give him time to heal before she saw him.  Before she sat down to eat her makeshift meal, Grace walked in through the back door.  “Claire.  Where have you been?”  Claire took a bite of bread and cheese.  “I took a long walk.  I needed fresh air.”

Grace sounded desperate, as if she was begging.  “Claire, you can’t leave, we have to hide you.”  Shaking her head, mouth still full she asked, “Why?”  Grace lowered her eyes to the ground, “Declan was here earlier, asking after you.  He informed me that Benton has put out a warrant for you.”  Claire, stopped chewing, her eyes growing large.  “Of course.”  She took a bite of the cold cut on her plate.  “I’ll-…” Mary walked in, unrealizing of her interruption.  “Two men came in while you were gone.  Looking for you.  Oh and Malcom Brown came in drunk asking for Captain Chesterfield.” 

“It’s Samuel Grant.”  Claire finished.  “I told you he’d come.”  Dabbing her napkin on her lips, she stood from her place at the table.  “I’ll take care of Malcom.”  Grace waltzed to the front to see the two men taking spot by the fire.  She swallowed and walked to their table as Claire made a beeline for Malcom.

Once Malcom caught sight of Claire, his smile was big and drunk.  “Ah!  Well if it isn’t for the beautiful Claire Emberly!”  He raised his glass in the air, spilling a bit over the sides.  “Malcom, you’re drunk.”  Without another word, she took him by his elbow and led him to the shed out back.  “My brother misses ya.  Been a long time.”

“Malcom, you will wait here.  I’ll be back.”  Claire left a pouting man in his seat, but was satisfied when he didn’t make an attempt to move.  She stopped Mary.  “Put coffee in him.”  And she walked to her sister to help guard her against Samuel Grant.

“… and that the consequences of discovery, would be shattering.”  Claire walked into the back, stopping abruptly, feeling the thick tension in the room.  She watched as Grant grabbed his furs, looking as if he was going to leave.  She could tell the meeting had not gone well for Grace.  Grant’s eyes perked up at the sight of Claire.  He smiled like a spider luring its prey into a web.  He gingerly reached for her hand and kissed the back of it.  “And might who might this be?”  Claire forced a smile.  She knew she needed to be pleasant in order to help Grace.  “Claire, sir.”  She batted her eyelashes.  Still holding onto her hand, he spoke again.  “I must rush off Claire, but I do hope to see you again in the very near future.”  He kissed her palm this time around, smiled and turned to leave.  “Good evening, ladies.”

Once he left, a disgusted scowl crossed her lips.  “I know why you advised me against him.”  Claire turned to her sister.  “Malcom is out back.”

The next day, in the late hours of the morning, Grace brought in Malcom, bloody from whatever he got himself into.  “Oh my god.”  Claire rushed to the man, grabbing a cloth and some whiskey on her way.  She dabbed the cloth and began to clean his face while handing him the bottle.  Malcom smiled, “Aye I understand why Douglas wanted to marry you.”  He took a swig of whiskey while Grace looked like her eyes were going to bug out of her head. 

Once Malcom was thoroughly drunk and passed out in the storage house, Grace stopped Claire at the door before walking in.  “Douglas Brown proposed to you?”  Claire licked her lips, shifting her, looking at the little prints they made in the snow.  “Yes.  Several years back.  He is a good, tender man but I told him it would never work.  He deserved a wife who could give her full heart to him.”  Her gaze fell down again to her feet.  “But I did almost say yes.  The pain was still sharp from Declan and… Douglas is a good man, Grace despite his brother’s pigheadedness.  He is not that type of man but I couldn’t stand the thought of waking up next to him and becoming saddened because it was not Declan.”  Grace silently nodded her head and ushered her sister into the tavern, asking no more. 

When following after her sister, Grace ran into her body, whose feet were planted firmly on the floorboards.  “Claire, what-…”  The women were met with Declan who stood there, jaw clenched.  Anger clouded his eyes, “You were going to get married?”  Grace looked at her sister and walked off, giving the two privacy.  “You have no right to judge, Declan.  You least of every man out there.”  She was right and it stung Declan right in the heart.  But the thought of her with another man, in another mans bed, sent him into a rage.  “You need to leave, Declan.  It’s not safe for you here.”  She tried to walk past him, but he blocked the entry way.  Thankfully, the tavern was empty and he was not going to let Claire escape, not this time.


	15. The Gallows PART 3

“You left!”  Declan shouted at her.  Anger mixed with hurt was present in his emotions.  His face was in a red rage, knuckles white.  Claire turn to him, firing back.  “Yes!  I left!  But that shouldn’t have mattered to you!  You married, had a child and moved on!” Claire shouted back with equal measure, her foot stomping and planting itself firmly on the floor boards of the ale house, her little hands clenching and unclenching.  Declan took a deep sigh, she was right, he did.  He ran his hand over his face, trying to relax his muscles.  Suddenly, instead of anger and hurt, his anger dissipated, replacing it with betrayal and hurt.  Quietly, he asked, “Did you ever love me?  Did you love him?”  Claire looked at him, brows furrowed, confused almost insulted.  “What?”

“I said-…”

“I know what ya said, Declan.  My question is: was my love for you ever in doubt? If anything, I should be the one asking that.”

“You wouldn’t marry me, you shut down and left.  I-…”

“Yes Declan, I wouldn’t marry ya right away.  I wasn’t ready.  I was left scarred after losing our child, I needed time before-…”  Declan rudely cut off Claire as anger slowly began to creep into his veins.  “Needed time!?  You took a year!  You talk about our baby like it wasn’t mine.  I grieved too Claire!”  Again, it became a shouting match between the two.  “You didn’t feel the things I felt inside of my body, Declan!  You didn’t feel the child move around inside you gently!  I did!  Ya didn’t carry a living being inside of you!  It was a different kind of pain, Declan.  One you couldn’t understand.”  Claire held herself, tears from reopened wounds began to spring from her eyes.  She turned from him, unable to show him her weakness.  Her shoulders shook and body began to feel numb. 

Declan felt guilty, he wished Claire would have just told him and now she is shutting down from him, again.  His boots made the squeaky floor boards give way under his weight.  He wouldn’t leave her again.  He didn’t think they would survive it.  He placed his rough hands on her shoulders, testing the waters.  He hoped she would let him touch her and to his greatest pleasure, she didn’t push him away.  Without giving her a moment to doubt, he quickly spun her around and as if she might float away, he held her tightly to his chest.  Inhaling the sweet scent of her hair, he held her tighter, if it was at all possible.  It had been 7 years since he even touched her skin and the often-revisited memories of them flooded his mind at once. 

Claire caved into him, remembering his warmth and gentle embrace.  She didn’t have it in her to push him away.  Her voice was small, fragile and cracked.  “I keep thinking that, that was God’s punishment for us… because we didn’t wait for the marriage bed.  Then you couldn’t wait.  You off and married that woman.  That’s why I left, Declan.  I couldn’t watch what you and that woman had that we should have had.  I felt so betrayed.”

“Claire, I am so sorry, no amount of words can show you that.  I would be lying if I said I didn’t love her and her loss took a hard toll on me.  But she paled to you. As for our baby, no.  It was by accident, Claire.  Please, don’t hide in yourself again.”  He brought his hands to her cheeks, cradling them.  Declan forced her to look at him, his thumbs wiping away her tears.  “Don’t leave me again.”  He whispered.  “I told you every day, Declan, I love you.  If you ever doubted it, it was your own insecurities clouding your better judgement.”

Declan clenched his teeth, dreading the answer to his next question.  “Do you still love me?”  His heart pounded and his body felt like a cage for butterflies.  She didn’t answer right away.  She only searched his face.  Claire placed her hands over his, her fingers curling into his fingers.  “Declan, I didn’t say _loved_ in my last statement… I said I _love_ you.”

That was all the reassurance Declan needed.  Fervently, he descended his mouth onto hers.  His lips melting into Claire’s, like they would become one.  She opened her mouth to him as he moved his hands to her hips, clenching them firmly.  Claire sighed in relief, her hands roaming the planes of his body.  Declan tilted her head to one side, suckling the sweet skin on the juncture of her neck and shoulders.  She leaned into him, unsure where to place her hands.  Her breathing became erratic and her eyes slid close, enjoying the feel of him after 7 years. 

Declan stopped, his breathing hard in her ear.  “Claire, if I asked to lie with you right now, would you deny me?” His husky voice sent a hardwire from her ear to a pit in her stomach.  She ran her hands over his shoulders, running her hands through the soft fur atop them.  He held her up, against him.  She breathed out, “No.”

Promptly, Declan swept Claire off her feet and into a more secluded area adjacent from the ale house.  Pushing back the curtain, he set her on her feet.  Swinging the furs loose from his shoulders, he set them on the floor, adjusting them accordingly.  He led her to the furs and set his weight atop her.  “Ever the gentleman.”  Claire smiled at him, lifting her head and bringing her lips lightly to his.  With renewed passion, Declan then rested his full weight onto his legs, quickly making work with her clothes.  She didn’t move, content with watching his face furrow and concentrate on making her bare before him but eagerly waiting for him to do the same for himself. 

When she was finally bared to him, his eyes were fixated on her body.  Deep into concentration.  With an amiable touch his fingertips grazed the softness of her waves to the skin on her neck, to her collarbone, and settled in the valley between her breasts.  Without his gaze leaving her breasts, he spoke, “You’ve changed.”

“We both have.”  He looked deep into her eyes finding unconditional love there.  He kissed her lips again his thumb brushing over one of her nipples.  His mouth followed the journey his fingers did and soon his lips latched onto one of her breasts, earning a quiet moan from the woman beneath him.  Her chest pushed up into him, urging him on.  She ran her fingers though his hair, grasping onto the roots and massaging his scalp.  “Declan, I love how you worship my body, but it is cold, and I want to be reunited with you.  Off with your clothes then.” 

Declan didn’t need to be told twice, he made hasty work with his own clothing and stood up before her.  Now it was Claire’s turn to admire but was met with pure agony for him.  His body was battered and bruised.  Cuts and fresh wounds were strategically marring his body.  It was evident he tried to cauterize the deepest one.  “Oh Declan.  I…” Her eyes raked over the hard planes of his chest just as her hands did.  He was burly and damaged, but he was still magnificent. 

He leaned down over Claire, covering her with his heat, his bare chest against hers.  Her heart hurting for him.  “Don’t worry about me.  I am fine as long as you live.”  Declan ran his fingertips across her sides, coating her in goosebumps.  His lips connected with her collarbone as he slid into her, her heat completely encasing him.  A pleasant shudder rippled down from the roots of Claire’s hair, to the tips of her toes.  Declan’s hand clamped hold on her hips as he slowly rocked into her.  “Have you been with another man?”  Claire laughed, tilting her head into the furs slightly.  “You’re making love to me and asking me that now?”

“Answer.”  His concentration on pleasuring her body was unbroken, he couldn’t stop but he had to know.  “Would your view of me change if I had?”  He raised his head, inspecting her face.  He leaned back, resting his weight onto his knees, lifting her body flush against his, his arms wrapping around her torso.  “I have no room to judge.  You’re all the same to me.”  Claire sighed, placing her hands gently on his forearms, caressing the skin.  She stared at his scarring chest, biting her bottom lip then raising her eyes to his.  “No Declan, I never did.  I lost interest in everyone else, I only wanted you.”  She ran her fingertips across his scaring body, trembling.  Her face scrunched up in worry.  Declan gently grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands to his lips, planting a loving kiss in each palm. 

Following her confession, Declan thrust upward into Claire her lips finding an ‘o’ shape, her toes curling, and her head falling back into ecstasy.  Resting his head on her shoulder, he kissed the tender flesh, leaving a small mark there.  She felt him everywhere.  His hands exploring her back, his lips leaving delicate kisses, himself inside of her.  She pressed herself against him, her dam cracking open.  Their breathing became erratic and inharmonious.  “Declan.”  His muffled grunts signaled his end as he stilled inside of her.  With his finale, Claire found hers.  Her body convulsing around him.  It was fast but unequivocally beautiful. 

Declan lied them down onto the furs, regaining their rhythmical breathing.  Claire turned to face him, kissing his shoulder.  “I love you, Declan.  Never ever doubt it.” 

Declan was going to respond when Grace’s voice interrupted their tender moment from outside of the curtain.  In the quietest of voices, but loud enough so the two of them could hear, she spoke.  “Declan, you need to leave now.  Captain Chesterfield is here and I’m not taking any chances.”  The sound of her boots faded into the front of the ale house.  Claire rapidly stood up and threw her clothes on.  “Go, quickly.”  Declan followed suit dressing himself in his clothes.  He grabbed the furs from the floor and brought it to his nose, inhaling then smiling.  “It smells like you.” Claire shoved him towards the back door.  “Go!” 

Before he turned out the door, Declan held Claire’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, bringing her lips to his in one chaste kiss.  “I’ll always come back for you.”  With that, he turned and faded into the night.  “Be safe.”  Claire whispered only to herself. 

Claire began to head into the front of the ale house but was met with a suspecting Chesterfield.  Her sister had her jaw clenched tight and her eyes shifted from Chesterfield, to her sister, and back again worried.  Chesterfield licked his lips and eyed Claire.  “Who were you talking to?”  Claire stood stark still.  “A friend.  She just left.”  The man clicked his tongue, taking a deep breath in and pushed around her into the room that Declan was in moments ago.  “This… woman, are you… lovers?  That is ungodly.  I heard a little intimate talk and… come to think of it, it sounded quite like a man.  More specifically Declan Harp?” 

Claire was always wonderful at hiding her emotions, being the secret trader she is.  But she couldn’t help but worry what would happen to Declan if Benton had her captured.  They would use her as bait, or possibly worse.  “In fact, Lord Benton told me of a woman Harp was engaged with before he was married, there is a search for her currently.  The description he told me of the girl, sounds an awful lot like you.”  Putting on her bravest face, Claire widened her stance.  “I’m afraid I have to take you into custody.  Lord Benton will be pleased to have you as an _honored_ guest.” 

Grace walked up to Claire completely on the defense.  “You’re not going to take my sister, Captain Chesterfield.” 

“Your sister?  You look nothing alike.”

“You will not take her.”  Grace repeated as Chesterfield nodded, “I am, again afraid, you have no choice Ms. Emberly.”

That evening, Chesterfield had Claire by her rope tying her hands together.  Propelling her forward, he began small talk.  “So, you are Grace’s sister aye?”  Claire nodded her head resentfully, but complied.  “Yes.  My father came to the New World for his… trade and met my mother who was Native American.  The English killed her and I was barely two.  With nothing left keeping him here, we went back to Scotland and he met my sisters mother.  She died giving child birth and when my sister and I grew older, our father died of an illness.” 

“I am sorry.”

“Not as sorry as you’ll be when Declan finds out what has happened to me.”

“This shall be interesting then.”  Claire froze, the breath leaving her lungs.  “What do you mean?”  Chesterfield never answered, he pushed her forward.  “You’ll see soon enough.  So, your name is Irish, yes?  But you and Grace are Scottish.”

“Our father traveled greatly.  He has heard many names and found mine.”

Claire was met with an open field containing several soldiers along with towns people all surrounding a guillotine.  “Declan!”  His neck was clothed in rope from the noose.  Claire struggled against Chesterfield but his grip was stronger than her force.  “Move!”  He parted the crowd and placed her next to Benton.  “Ah!  Here she is.  My dear, you’ve grown into a beautiful woman!  Too bad you must be punished for your poor choice in associates.”  He nodded to Declan who was stricken.  “Claire...  Benton let her go you sick son of a bitch!”  Benton was not fazed.  He grasped Claire tightly by the column of her neck and pushed Claire forward closer to the guillotine.  “You’re in no place for a debate Harp.  I want you to suffer.  In fact, I have an idea.  Would you like to see how your precious wife died?  I could recreate it here with this woman the star of the play as your deceased wife.  Is this one pregnant with your child too, Declan?  Then it would really be realistic.”

Benton’s words had Declan’s blood boiling.  “You will suffer a fate worse than death if you touch her.”  Benton shrugged his shoulders, “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.  Like I’ve said you have lost, I have won.”  He turned to face his men, shouting to no one in particular.  “Anyone have a hunting knife?”  His head tilted towards Declan, “We cut her open, that’s how we knew she was with child and we will do the same here.”  Declan struggled against his restraints, willing them to fall off of him but to no avail. 

Having found his knife, Benton returned to Claire.  “Hold her down.”  Claire struggled and effectively broke a soldier’s nose, but she was greatly outnumbered.  She turned her head away from Declan, she couldn’t look him in the eyes, not while they did this to her.  She couldn’t bear to see his agony as they mutilated her.  “Claire!  Claire!  Look at me… Look at me!”  She shook her head, tears unabashedly shedding.  “Look at me Claire!”  She reluctantly turned her head to him and burst into tears.  “Claire… Claire I love you.  Hang on.”  Unbeknownst to her, Declan was trying to cut his ropes free.  But between his anger and desperate need to get to Claire, he was slowing his success. 

“I hope you’re watching Declan Harp.  It will be the last thing you see before you too die.”  Benton forcefully pulled up her shirt and pressed the cold steel to Claire’s abdomen, pressing in deep but not deep enough to slice open her womb.  Not yet.  A shrill scream erupted from her throat as Benton continued his journey from just below her navel, upward.  She felt unimaginable pain from Benton’s cruelties but the pain in her heart stemmed from Declan himself as his screams of misery echoed in her ears.

Declan watched helplessly as Benton deformed her perfect skin, marring her for life.  He cried and screamed until his throat was raw and thrashed about until he couldn’t anymore.  He thought about how he would never find pleasure from her laughter or enjoy the fruits of making love to her.  He cut at the rope as furiously as he could.  He was failing her and as she began to pass out from the extreme pain, he realized he had failed her.  She had begged and pleaded with him to stop his games and because of his selfish ambitions, she was paying for his sins with her life.   

Suddenly, a loud bang replaced the blood curdling screams followed by shots of nearby gunfire.  “We are being attacked!”  Soldiers and towns folk alike were running in all different directions.  Benton rapidly stopped his administrations looking around for his safety while Claire’s body went into shock.  Everything happened so quickly and she was barely conscious.  She could barely hear Declan’s cries and commands as she was gently, but swiftly, carried from the battle scene. 

**Author's Note:**

> So?? How do you feel? Leave a comment, subscribe and kudos please!


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